He Said No to This
by UnfortunatelyWriting
Summary: Where would Alexander's life have gone if he had just said no to this?
There's nothing like summer in the city. New York sweltering like a carcass, stone dead and quiet, dry like a bone. The high noon sun bakes the pavements and the brownstones, radiating heat lines until the whole horizon dissolves away. It's almost like the world stops spinning and with it goes the wind. The air, dead, settles like sand, seeping down to the dusty earth, filling and expanding into every crevice, every shade, every refuge, until there's nowhere in five boroughs that's comfortable. Cicadas whine that lonesome tinny croak from sunup to sundown and the old firefly zips between clotheslines at dusk but otherwise the city's without any common signs of life.

Like the breeze, everything good leaves the city. The interim Capital slows as its delegates go upstate to avoid the blazing heat. Each second drags on to the next and the walls of my office seem smaller while the distance between me and any other person seems to stretch for miles.

I haven't slept in a week. My nights, like my days, filled with endless piles of papers and failed plans. Without the small reprise of receiving and responding to letters from Angelica or the insistence of my wife to break for supper or bed, I write through all hours of the day. I eat when I remember or when the pain in my stomach becomes a gnawing entanglement that makes it seem like even my own body is set against me. I rest when I can no longer see the paper or when the candles set around my desk burn completely out.

The rich sound of wood fills the house, carried by the vibration of the knocking at the door. Frustrated at the interruption, I take my time answering.

When I open the door, a woman stands on the other side.

"Can I help you?" I mean to snap but the irritation drains from my body as I take in the sight of hers.

"I know you are a man of honor, I'm so sorry to bother you at home, but I don't know where to go," the woman, around twenty-five, blonde hair to her waist and curves in places that would bring a man to his knees, says with a sultry voice.

My head tilts as I double check the situation.

"Alexander Hamilton," I introduce myself and she smiles slyly. She knew, of course, why else would she have come?

"Maria Reynolds," she inclines her head and then looks up at me from under her eyelashes. "Sir."

I straighten my shoulders and my head rises by itself, pleased at being addressed as such. "How may I be at your service, milady?" For the first time since I opened the door, I take my eyes off her and look around. "Are we expecting anyone else?"

"I came here alone."

Again, I am taken back.

"Please," I sweep an arm in the direction of my office. "Come in."

She smiles graciously and as she passes me into the house, she brushed against me. It's slight, and I almost wonder if it was accidental, but then she turns back to me and I know it wasn't.

I lead her into my office.

"My husband's doing me wrong, beating me, cheating me." She rallies some tears and I reach out to sooth her. "Suddenly he's up and gone. He went last week, moved downtown with some woman. He's left me with the house. I don't have the means to go on."

"How severe is you financial state?"

"I won't have a dollar to my name by the end of the week."

I pace over to my desk, needing to put space between this temptation and my weak will. "So you came for a loan?"

I motion for her to sit in the chair opposite me, grabbing for a pen. She floats across the floor and then sinks into the cushioned seat. "Of sorts."

I look up from the check to see her sitting in a way that leaves nothing up to imagination. "M-Maria Reynolds. Reynolds with a 'y' correct?"

"Yes," she says with a voice

"Right." I shake my head in an attempt to clear it. "Does 30 dollars sound good?"

"Perfect," she purred.

I finished the check, my hand as steady as my heart beat is at the moment. I hold the check out to her and as she takes it, her fingers brush my wrist. She's good—skilled at what she does. I know the implications of this money now, and I don't plan on saying no.

"Can I walk you home?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Of course, Sir."

As we walk, I don't offer her my arm and she doesn't expect it. It's only about four minutes before she points out which one is hers.

"Follow me, Sir."

I follow her into house and despite the obvious knowledge on my part that she had done this many times before she turned red. She leads me to her bed, lets her legs spread and says, "stay?"

"Hey," I grin with the left side of my mouth, my hands at my belt.

Before I get any further she thanks me again. "I thank you for all your help, Sir. I don't know what I would have done. I'm practically helpless."

I freeze at that word. _Helpless_. Eliza. The word takes me back to the first time I saw her. Every moment of _our_ story come flooding into view. I'm blinded.

"Sir?"

The blanket of fog lifts and I'm left in a room thats unfamiliar. Standing before a bed thats not mine. With a wife who doesn't belong to me. How could I do this?

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**Unknown to most, Maria Reynolds was accused of being a prostitute by more than one person. Hamilton knew exactly what the money was for, "Say No to This" is merely a story told from the point of view of a man who wanted to keep a shred of his dignity. It's not known if he continued to pay her for her company, but the first time was plain and simple.

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Leave comments, let me know what you guys think and I'll probably end up updating sooner.


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